Merve and Dogan have just been assassinated. I return to the car and the killcodes are entered, the mainframe updates and the rogues have new targets. Gambit messages me his target asking if we share them again and we do. The Shadow Government are putting pressure on the people who are at the lower end of the scoring spectrum and all the 1-kill assassins are gone and now we’re onto the 2-kill guys. First up on our hit list: Hungarian. Or as hes known in the game, Jeff Vader

Todays the day: Sunday bloody Sunday. Rogue communications had hinted at a large scale showing to wait for these guys and I had images of them appearing and being gunned down by at least 7 people. I put a call out to see who is planning on attending and get nothing back other than a potential sting operation being setup for Eru in a pub that we probably scuppered any chance of actually happening after our hi-jinx yesterday but this wasn’t communicated to us at the time. Candy also plans to drop his false lead to the Eagle today despite us doing it yesterday. So thats on the cards to break up our day. We had intel from a friend of Stench’s on the nature of the visit to Turkey and set some ground rules to go easy on Merve and to lay into Dogan just to be safe. We’d also discovered that depending on where exactly they’d fly out from that there was flights from 930am to 930pm so we were genuinely clueless as to their return

Thursday rolls along and the rogues are re-assigned. I’m given Corday and I plan on hitting him up that evening. An email goes between all the rogues telling us the priority is on Corday and Team M.E.D., I shit my pants and tell them even if I can’t get the kill on Team M.E.D. that I would love to be involved in their undoing. Redemption, redemption is at hand! I can finish what I began. Eevil helps me out and gives me Eru as a target, the other 2 are out of town at the minute and won’t return until Sunday. Intel is also received that Corday wants out, hes had enough of the game and wants to be put out of his misery. I send texts to Corday offering him a gentleman’s exit and a story to tell of his demise and I plot in the meanwhile to being stalking Eru starting that evening

Every Wednesday is Drinks for the Dead (DFTD), where dead assassins and live assassins (if they’re feeling brave) meet up to exchange stories and drink to each others stories of both victory and defeat. I am torn as to whether to go to the event, so little has happened to me that I don’t really have stories to tell and my usual anxieties about going somewhere and not knowing anybody rear their head. But after a swift McDonalds I decided I’d be an idiot if I didn’t go. I’d paid all this money to be part of something and I wanted to get the most out of the experience. And this was the part that really got me about some (but thankfully not the majority) of the players of this game, for I turned up at 8 pm and of the 12 people who lay dead and damp only 2 dead assassins actually turned up. But I get ahead of myself

My first week is a clusterfuck timing wise. I have 2 full days at work (9am to 10pm shifts) where I can do precious little before I’m due to go on a camping trip at the end of the week that I forgot about and is now inconveniently timed. With us having to make at least a kill a week to stay in the game I had to act quick to stand a chance. But I didn’t want to be a dick and take someone out on the first day, these guys had spent a combined £195 to play this game and I didn’t want to shit on them when they hadn’t had a chance to play. If I made it past the first week it would be a miracle

It started like any other day. Wake up, tell the alarm I’m not ready yet, reset alarm, wake up again, brush teeth, do hair, go to work. A typical work day consists of very little actual work, I mean its not fair to say I don’t do any actual work but the work I do feels so benign and uninspiring that it passes over me and I can do my job while browsing my ipad out of sight of customers. Mornings consist of eating breakfast and catching up on the internet from the previous day, Tuesday’s are special though. Tuesday is Timeout day. Timeout has been one of my main resources in London for finding some of the interesting yet odd things that I came here to do. A typical glance through can usually highlight anything of any interest to me and the rest is normally words of little use to myself. Recent weeks have been fairly quiet on the events front so this normally doesn’t take up much of my day. This week is much the same. Music! Theatre! Galleries! Some dude eating large quantities of food! Some month long water pistol assassination tournament!

So it looks like the world didn’t end then, whether it helped me going to the top of a mountain in Sweden by myself we probably will never know. But I appreciate that you’re all incredibly thankful nonetheless. Firstly I should admit I’m typing this before the clock ticks over onto the 21st, primarily because when the clock hits midnight I’ll be standing at the highest point I can with a cup of tea in hand acknowledging the awesome year I’ve had and looking forward to what the next one will bring

I haven’t wrote on here for some time for one reason or another (As per usual), but with a couple of people checking out the website again and reminding me that it exists now seems as good a time as ever to get back to writing something. Especially considering my internets down and theres nothing much else I can do lol

So what’s changed since last time I wrote? Quite a lot as it happens. I’m single once again and living a suitably single person lifestyle which goes without saying isn’t suitable to be written about here but can be summed up with the following categories: Good times, bad times, box ticking times and actual waste of times. Those in the know will be able to fill the categories with relative ease

After one failed irrigation attempt, and 2 failed de-irrigation attempts my first fortress was spiralling into nothingness and a second fortress ending prematurely after a save game went corrupt. It was time to gen a new world and see what I would get. So it was that Mafol Barim, or The Chambers of Artifice in the human tongue was founded. With design philosophies from my previous world and an excellent embark location, it was destined to be a grand fortress. But true to Dwarf Fortress fashion, it slowly began to unravel at the seams. It all started with an Elven caravan that arrived at the same time as a goblin siege. Now there’d been a falling out between me and the elves in the year previous involving a polar bear and some wood. But first, lets get a bit of background on Mafol Barim

The last blog post was delayed due to Monday rolling by and me discovering I had no job to go to London with. After a period of coming up with alternative solutions and realising I had no option but to get whatever I could from Ladbrokes and scavenge for other jobs while I was down there I had come to terms with the situation. I had been nigh promised a job in the center of London and upon pointing out I was due to put a considerable amount of money into a flat I was going to view was told again, yeah you’ll have a 30 hour job in this area. The rage and momentary despair of being told that on the phone, throughout all of this I’ve worked so hard at getting everything right. Getting every piece of the puzzle in place so that I wouldn’t stumble, and one of those pieces had just got wet and disintegrated to nothing in front of me. I was given a number of another person who might have a job in London for me, but given how long I’d waited to get to where I was it seemed unlikely something would come from that and indeed ringing the number the person was on holiday (Everyone seems to go on holiday in Ladbrokes when I need them). I tried ringing about the head office job I’d been chasing for ages and once again nobody picked up the phone, this is THE head of recruitment for Ladbrokes not answering his internal phone for 2 weeks running. Madness